Sports of The Times

Even the nonvoting kibitzers in the Baseball Writers Association usually succumb to temptation and prepare in advance to second‐guess the duly appointed committees of 24 in elections for the most valuable player in each league. The only time they refrain is when their choices are so obvious as to preclude debate.

It is unlikely there will be even one critical blast delivered at the naming yesterday of Vida Blue of the Oakland Athletics as the M.V.P. in the American League. He clearly deserved the distinction and yet there are intriguing facets to his selection that set it apart from most of the others. There have been times in the recent past when a Frank Robinson or a Carl Yastrzem ski, triple crown winners both, or a Denny McLain, a 31‐game winner, are such dom inating figures that it is no contest. But there was no such stickout in the American League last season. The normal thought process of any selector, official or unoffi cial, is to look first to the hitters and then take a reluctant look at the pitchers. When I did this, I found it quite disconcerting.

The American League hitters are not an impressive group and are decidedly inferior in both power and average to the Nationals. Although the championship team will offer a prime candidate more often than not, the strength of the Baltimore Orioles was concentrated in their four 20‐game winners, who automatically negated each other. So sights had to be raised to more distant horizons and the area of the Golden Gate hove into view. When it comes to distance, Oakland qualifies.

Split Season

So does Vida. The one disturbing thing about this 22‐year‐old wonder was that he had such a peculiar season. He had won 17 games and averaged more than a strike‐out an inning by the time of the All‐Star interval in mid‐July. But all the stresses and strains avalanched over him so swiftly and so implacably after that dividing line that he couldn't be himself any more. And when Vida really wasn't himself, he posted a 7‐5 record over the second half for an overall total of 24‐8.

Yet Vida's strange split‐season could not obscure his value to his team. He gave the Athletics such early momen tum that they coasted to the biggest lead and easiest divisional victory in either league. The Oaklands won by the monstrous margin of 16 games.

Until Vida arrived on the scene the Athletics were as obscure a baseball team as has been around in ages. They had little identity and no following. Charlie Finley had arbitrarily uprooted them from Kansas City and defiantly planted them across the bay from the San Francisco Giants, ruining Giant attendance and not especially helping his own.

But Vida did more than restore self‐respect to his teammates. He began drawing crowds, doubling and tri pling normal attendance whenever it was his turn to pitch. He contributed excitement and it was contagious. The A's caught fire early and never did let the flame go out until the Orioles extinguished it in the postseason playoffs. Hence Blue was responsible to a major degree for the year‐long success of the Oaklands. Did this make him most valuable? It would seem so.

Yet only 14 of the 24 committeemen from a dozen American League cities were sufficiently carried away by the Blue heroics to vote him the top spot on their ballots. It should be parenthetically interposed here that Vida's name appeared on every one of the voting slips, the only man to gain such distinction.

Wide Distribution

It seems to me that confusion and doubt assailed those who didn't go for Vida. Sal Bando, Oakland third baseman with a .271 batting average, drew four first‐place votes; Frank Robinson, a .281 hitter, drew two and Brooks Robin son, a .272 hitter, drew three. Mickey Lolich, a pitcher with 25 victories, got one vote. Interestingly enough, the seventh man on the list, Bobby Murcer of the Yankees, is the first .300 hitter to rate a call. He batted .331.

I have to surmise that this voting table proves some thing, althought I also must confess that its significance escapes me. Maybe it is that Vida's challengers are a sorry lot. This observation is bound to make that noble executive, Joe Cronin, the president of the American League, wince.

Vida has a fastball of such velocity that it makes batters blink. Wait until Charles O. (For Owner) Finley sees the curve that Vida is about to fire in his direction. The most underpaid ballplayer extant at an estimated $13,000 a year, the exuberant left‐hander now is in a matchless bargaining position.

I don't know whether or not you've ever caught him in a television commercial, where all the charisma and glowing personality of this charmer come sparkling through the tubes. Eyes twinkling, he mischievously says he's going to be in the big money next year. Will the price control system balk him? It's a cinch that Finley will have no choice but to pay him what he's worth. Almost, anyway.

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